


Lancelot, Gawain, and the Abbey of Inevitability

by Fair_Feather_Friend



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Camelot, Curse Breaking, Curses, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Sex Pollen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fair_Feather_Friend/pseuds/Fair_Feather_Friend
Summary: After a miserable journey, Lancelot and Gawain find themselves seeking shelter at a strange abbey where there's a curse at play, dark magics afoot, and a lot of beautiful women that want them.
Relationships: Gawain/Lancelot du Lac (Arthurian), Lancelot du Lac/Arthur Pendragon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Lancelot, Gawain, and the Abbey of Inevitability

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



The storm howled, rain beating down upon the two travellers, as they and their horses made their way onward, searching for a place they could lay camp for the night.

As they began to lose hope, a building emerged from the mist, pristine white walls glittering even in the dimming light. It had all the outward appearance of an abbey.

"How fortuitous," Gawain summoned up some enthusiasm that had been lacking these last few miserable hours.

Lancelot's skin prickled, the entire place set his teeth on edge. If he were alone he might have continued on, but there were two of them, and their horses were exhausted. "Be on your guard," he warned.

Lancelot approached the door, raising the heavy knocker and letting it fall with a disappointing thump. Soon after it was opened by a woman of astounding beauty, who offered them hospitality and ushered them inside.

They were greeted with the greatest comforts, for both knights and steed. A feast laid out for them. Lancelot's stomach churned at the sight of all that rich food.

They were offered everything they could wish for, by women each more beautiful than the last, all fawning over the presence of two great and noble knights in their midsts.

There wasn't another man in sight, nor were there the usual trappings of religion that would be expected of such a place. No hounds. Not even a stray cat.

The women seemed to blend together in nameless, faceless, beauty. Their voices like the sweetest music, every note enchanting. They flattered egos, plying the knights with food and drink and promises of much more.

Lancelot could read it in their casual caresses, their flirtatious smiles, the flash of a leg, the gentle swell of breasts. These were women of dreams and nothing felt real at all.

None of the women were older than their twenties. That was stranger yet.

Who would not desire them? So many women, blondes, brunettes, red-heads, with skin light and dark, each lovely in her own way. So many compliments and no one here to protect their virtue. It should be tempting to stay a day, and then another, to let them weave their spell.

Lancelot felt nothing.

Lancelot had feared that he would need to rescue Gawain from the clutches of their beautiful hosts, but the younger knight seemed surprisingly resilient to their charms. If anything he tensed at each touch, bristled at their voices, irritation bubbling into anger that was not assuaged by soothing words.

"I said no!" Gawain snapped. He quickly corrected himself. "My apologies, I am more exhausted than I thought. Please excuse me, I must retire for the night. But do not let my rudeness end your festivities."

The women - were they women or just some strange creatures in the shape of such? - made sounds of disappointment. Several offered to escort Gawain to his room.

"It has been a long day," Lancelot rose to his own feet. "Thank you kindly for your hospitality."

Lancelot made their excuses, grasping hold of Gawain's arm least their hosts think to separate them or Gawain actually consider accepting their offer. He politely brushed off the offers of further companionship for the night and he retreated to their rooms.

The moment they were in the bedchamber, Lancelot barricaded the door as Gawain, restlessly searched. The window itself was too narrow to enter from or escape through, and the tapestries and rugs did not reveal any hidden doors beneath.

"Do you feel it?" Gawain asked. "There's enchantment everywhere. Something old and powerful is here. Lurking. All those hungry eyes waiting for us to put a foot wrong so they can devour us."

"It is fortunate that you're immune."

"If only that were true." Gawain's laugh was sharp. "I can feel it clawing at me. We should have ridden on. I fear they would take great insult if we left now. But you, my friend, do appear untouched by these magics."

"My mother's protections." Lancelot held out his left hand with the ring upon it. It was a plain ring of a dull silver metal utterly unremarkable. Gawain stepped closer, taking the hand in his own to examine it closer, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he glanced up at Lancelot.

Gawain stroked fingers over it. The ring itself was cool to the touch. It was a place of peace, all the tranquil calm of the lake, a mother's love and proof against enchantments.

"I would like to meet her some day." Gawain's touch became a gentle caress, some sense of calm settling over him.They stood like that, in the firelight, holding hands, a quiet moment of such intimacy.

Desire surged within Lancelot, not all of which was the result of the enchantments that hung heavy in the air. Gawain raised the ring to his lips, kissing gently, fingers stroking Lancelot's hands. The light kiss to the pulse point on his wrist, was as intimate as any Lancelot had felt, the press of lips to his palm spread warmth to all the right-wrong places.

Gawain was beautiful in the firelight, his hair aflame. "I want you." Simple and direct.

"Ah…" Lancelot said with realisation. A sharp pain of aching loneliness lanced through his heart. "They truly caught the wrong prey in their trap."

There was a knock at the door. A voice called out. The handle was tested, but the barricade held. Gawain pressed himself to Lancelot, and stole any reply with a kiss. And then another. Whoever was outside retreated.

They kept kissing and it was different from any other Lancelot had known. The height difference, it was easy to forget how short Gawain was. The lack of facial hair, those gentle lips he did not know yet. Yet...

I could love you. But that was not the sort of treacherous thought Lancelot should have. Friends. Brother in arms. He didn't need more. And he did not want to destroy what they had.

Lancelot placed a firm hand on Gawain's chest, and stepped back. "This is wrong." Gawain's breath caught. "You're under the influence of a spell of desire."

Gawain's lips twisted, grimacing as he searched for words "You truly cannot feel it?" Lancelot shook his head. "It's burning desire to claim, to possess, to hurt. To pick up my blade, to root out the evil here, and end it. To blaze a trail of righteous anger and cut down all my foes." Gawain turned away to gaze into the fire. "They look as women. They act as women. I should not want to harm them."

"And yet you resist."

"How could I call myself a Knight if I did not? We're meant to protect them. A true knight controls his desires, they do not control him. We'll find out whatever curse lies here and resolve it in the morn. Preferably without bloodshed. If I start to lose control, and do something unknightly, you will stop me?"

"Of course," Lancelot replies. "But I do not think I will need to."

"Did I ever tell you why I came to Camelot?"

"Tell me again?"

"You know of the berserker rages," Gawain said quietly. "The battle-lust that lends strength, steals reason. That's the gift of my father's line and one that needs to be tightly controlled. I get angry at so much."

"I couldn't tell."

"It's all justice and righteous fury now. I was wild as a boy. I think, if I hadn't met Arthur I'd be running around as a bear."

"Are those stories of being able to shapeshift real?"

Gawain shrugged. "Likely in the past, yes, now I don't know. There's a sea between father and most of his people. If anyone can it would likely be Agravain but I've never seen him do so. But that temper, that's the reason I chose to stay, chose to serve Arthur, strove to become one of Camelot's Knights with their strict codes of honour. Arthur helped, a lot. There's no one like him."

"You helped him too."

"Of course," Gawain smiled. "Camelot's not just Arthur is it, it's all the people, all our flaws, working together to build something better. If you want to sleep, take the bed. I'll prop up the door for old time's sake, in case something tries to enter."

Gawain stepped over to pick up a blanket, Lancelot caught his hand. They shared a look. Lancelot exhaled.

"It's a miserable night to spend alone and the doorway is never comfortable."

"Lugh, that's likely too big a temptation for me." Gawain glanced away. "I want you."

"For how long?" Lancelot replied.

Gawain's laugh rang nervous. "Truth, if we weren't here and now I'd likely never say a word of it. I know where your heart lies and I would never seek to challenge that. There was an afternoon, years ago, the sun was baking down and even Arthur was feeling the heat. So we went to the lake, and you were so much in your element there. You moved in the water as if you were born to it. Reminded me of the selkies we used to see back home. You were stunning, water glistening on your skin like jewels, and you looked so happy. And then Arthur splashed over, dunked you under and I'd never heard either of you laugh so much."

"Ah. You never even hinted."

Gawain shrugged. "Young men suffer from all sorts of desires, we cannot be a slave to them. Most will pass given time." He sounded as if he was quoting. "You're true, and honest, and even though you have your shadows you make the world a better place. I'm glad to call you friend. And don't think I've ever pined, or wanted things different. I love you." Something rang as he spoke those words, the clear tones of a bell. It felt so right. "Should say that more often. You and Arthur and Camelot. My brothers, my family. My horse and hounds. Life itself. I love you."

Lancelot tried to form the words but couldn't voice them.

"I know," Gawain smiled.

Lancelot pulled Gawain into his arms and kissed him, they tumbled onto the bed together and kissed until they were breathless. Clothes were shed and they found what joy they could of skin on skin, and movement together, and a rhythm that evoked a slow rising wave of pleasure that built and built to an exquisite climax. Ecstasy crashed and broke, and they rose to those heights again, and again, until exhausted.

"Love you." Lancelot murmured and he meant it, with all his sated heart. Gawain just mumbled something into his neck, snuggling close already half asleep.

~@~ ~@~ ~@~ ~@~ ~@~

Lancelot awoke to the first notes of the dawn chorus, arms twined around a muscular body, and a face full of copper curls.

Arthur.

He brushed that hair away, kissing the exposed neck.

"Mmm." A sleepy voice mumbled.

Gawain.

Leaves rustled as Gawain sat up. Leaves. They were blanketed in leaves, with the softest of moss underneath and Lancelot opened his eyes to see nothing but ruins. The abbey was gone, the women were gone and there was no longer any trace of magic in the air. 

Gawain laughed with relief, holding his arms out to welcome the sun. The storm had cleared and it promised to be a beautiful day.

Gawain was heart-breakingly beautiful in his joy. "I can't feel it anymore. We must have done something right."

"I recall we did a lot of things so very right." Lancelot replied drily.

"Magic." Gawain smiled.

Lancelot nodded. He should move, pull on his clothes, check on the horses.

"We need not speak of last night," Gawain misread the silence.

"You were under the influence of a compulsion." Lancelot felt the guilt begin to rise.

"None of that," Gawain threw some leaves at Lancelot, playfully. "I chose and have no regrets, and I hope the same of you. It was amazing, truly magical, if you look all around us we broke a curse, or banished something evil or... it was magic. Inexplicable. Ugh, I hope we've not slept for a hundred years, that'd be awkward."

Lancelot pulled Gawain closer and staved off the torrent of words with a kiss. Everything else could wait.

It was a good day. Lancelot smiled, unable to help himself, the joy so warm inside. Moss soft beneath and the air beginning to warm, birds singing joyfully of spring. The first rays of sun touched the world with their rose hues and everything seemed right in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> "Oh, I am afraid our life must seem very dull and quiet compared to yours. We are but eight score young blondes and brunettes, all between sixteen and nineteen and a half, cut off in this castle with no one to protect us! Oh, it is a lonely life -- bathing, dressing, undressing, making exciting underwear.... We are just not used to handsome knights." - Monty Python and the Holy Grail


End file.
